Undercover Lovers
by Ki Ken Tai Ichi
Summary: Zoro and Sanji (code names: Three and Two) are part of an elite assassin/spy ring and are both known as "monsters" who are exceptionally talented at killing. Their next assignment, however, has them on a long term undercover mission, poised to kill the son of a target should said target not cooperate. Their cover? High school teachers…who are married…what? Warning: very slow build.
1. Monsters among monsters

**A/N** : To finish off my week long marathon of posts (honestly I'm shocked I was able to accomplish this feat) I have decided to upload the first chapter in what I plan on being an eventual Zosan/Sanzo fic. Yes, yes I know: _But you said you don't have a romantic bone in your body_. Yeah, well...I'm trying to branch out okay. And this idea of Zoro and Sanji being high school teachers has been bugging me for months...and I love fics that have two characters that dislike each other have to live/coexist together. Sue me, alright?

So, without further ado, let's get rolling.

* * *

Monsters. Demons. Hell spawn. There were many words that were used to describe the two deadliest assassins in Aconitum, but no singular word could perfectly encapsulate what exactly these two assassins were. And it was even harder to find a label that could be used ambiguously, because while both assassins were as dangerous as they were skilled, they couldn't be more different.

One was the true master of silent killing. The kind who could strike, kill, and remove evidence before a witness could blink. In fact, the process was so swift, the rare spectator would genuinely question his memory as to whether the –now gone- person had even been there. Perpetually cool, calm and collected. Like the deceptively still lake, what was really underneath his outward exterior was never shown but always feared. Precision was this man's M.O. The target and only the target was dealt with…unless that target happened to be of the fairer sex…

Another was an inarguable genius at slaughter. The kind who was a monsoon of destruction, uncaring as to who was in his path. Just point him in the right direction (perhaps more than once) and he'd tear off at a frightening speed with an even more terrifying grin as he killed all before him. The target, the witnesses, the rats in the alley. With a disposition not unlike a tsunami perched on the edge of an unsuspecting shoreline, he was as equally frightening napping in the lounge as he was returning from a mission decorated in scarlet.

It was these two men who made Aconitum what it was now….but there was one woman who always seemed to overlook that fact…

...

"Twelve dead, Three. Twelve? TWELVE?!"

"I heard you the first time."

"Really? Are you sure? Because I'm fairly positive, no, absolutely certain that I told you to only kill one man!" The woman behind the desk yelled, seconds away from leaping over the desk to throttle the man across from her.

"Well, there was more than one man in the room." The man explained uninterestedly, even going so far as to scratch his scarred over left eye in boredom.

"That's why you wait to kill him! How many times have I told you this?"

"Look, you said it was important that this guy disappear, and I did just that. Besides, it's not like I left some mass murder behind. I fiddled with the electrics, set a fire, and now the police'll just think it was an unfortunate accident." The man concluded, crossing his arms over his chest after a casual shrug.

The woman sighed deeply. While Three was certainly infuriating, he wasn't an idiot. At least, not when it came to matters such as his job.

"Very well…other than that all I can say is good work. On your way out, can you send Two in?"

"Sure," the man said, rising to his feet with a stretch and a groan. He headed for the door and the moment he stepped out, she could hear an argument start up. While waiting for them to eventually putter out, the woman prepared herself for the next meeting. While Three was a headache, Two made her a tad nauseous with his unabashed staring and content smirks. She made certain every button on her shirt was done up and her jacket was on before relaxing to wait. Not 20 seconds later, Two entered the room, his angry snarl quickly dissipating into a bright smile upon seeing her.

"One, looking as lovely as always!" He greeted, easing himself into the very seat Three had just vacated.

"Hello Two, I wanted to know if you've finished your report on the Freiger Case."

"Freiger?" Two asked, and paused. "Ah, that guy with the gorgeous blonde wife far out of his league, right?"

"The one with the blackmail against us, yes." One nodded, completely ignoring Two with long practiced ease.

"Yeah, right here." Two said, removing a slim packet from within his suit jacket. He leaned forward, purposefully brushing his fingers over One's as the manila envelope exchanged hands.

"Excellent," One said, flipping the envelope open and scanning the contents. Despite Two being a few days late on completing the assignment –always taking extra time to make sure everything happened without a hitch on the first try- everything seemed to be in order.

"Is there anything else you wished of me, my one love?" Two asked with a twinkle in his left eye, followed by a shameless wink.

"No, you may go. But please remain on standby, as usual." One reciprocated, as though any implications behind the offer –intended or imagined- had completely gone over her head.

Two nodded, understanding that "standby" meant "don't leave the city", and left the spacious office. Once alone, One removed the jacket and unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse. She fanned herself with the recently acquired manila envelope until her body temperature fell back to an agreeable level, and relaxed in her cushioned chair. One ran a manicured hand through her copper hair and focused her attention to the computer screen to her left. She began to compile the information Two had given her and cross referenced any attention the murder might've caused in the media. According to three new stations and 4 online journals, the unfortunate "car accident" sent the far too young entrepreneur to the golden gate far too soon. One couldn't contain the smirk. The car accident was indeed a well appreciated "cherry on top" of the Two's masterpiece. It had been worth the extended delay.

As she was deleting history and making sure all traces of her presence on the online journals was gone, her quiet thoughts were interrupted by the shrill beep of her cell phone. She glanced at the I.D. and noticed Seventeen's number. She answered and held the device up to her ear, not wasting a breath in greeting. Seventeen, well familiar with normal protocol, began without wasting time on pleasantries.

"I'm having a problem with Mr. Gull."

One ran the code name through her memory and recognized it as the unknown pseudonym of Mr. Morgan, unknown to Mr. Morgan that is. "Of what kind," she airily replied.

"He's rather obstinate." The voice on the other end of the phone exhaled, as if she were dealing with a frustrating co-worker instead of a once client that was well within the territory of potential target.

"Mhm, you know how men his age can be." One replied with a well-humored chuckle, effortlessly embracing the charade on the off chance their conversation was being tapped.

"I know, but it doesn't get any less…cumbersome."

"Mhm," One replied again, to show she had heard and agreed.

"So, any advice?"

"I wouldn't approach him about it. As you may suspect, men his age can be rather defensive about their thick heads."

"So should I have another coworker talk to him, in my stead?"

One hummed in thought, which wasn't as much for show as it was a genuine habit of hers. What to do indeed, she thought. It's important that Morgan doesn't back out now, especially considering how much he knows….and it doesn't seem like bribing him is working anymore… One stood and headed for her safe behind the painting. She scanned her thumb and opened the steel door. After rummaging through the files within, she extracted one folder nearly an inch thick.

"I do think it'd be better for someone else to talk to him, to preserve any friendly relations in the office." One replied as she scanned through the information, not wanting too long –and suspicious- of a pause to echo between them. And then she saw a tidbit of information that made her lopsided smirk grow to a wide –but thin- smile. Perfect.

"In fact, maybe this is something some senior employees should handle." One added, a plan already forming in her Machiavellian mind.

"Oh, you think I should take it that seriously?" Seventeen replied, the surprise clear in her tone.

"Yes. This problem should be resolved sooner rather than later. Need to keep the office free of drama and all that."

"Well, if you say so. Alright, thanks for the help!" Seventeen said with such a cheery tone that One struggled to withhold a chuckle. Especially considering the normally quiet and reserved disposition Seventeen had.

One hung up, confident that her newest scheme was flawless. After all, what sort of patriarchal businessman would let his only son die because he was too stubborn to cooperate? One grinned with self-assurance as she placed Mr. Morgan's file back into the safe. Now, if only she could get her "senior employees" to agree…

* * *

 **A/N:** So, good set up? I hope so.

Now I plan on trying to update this story once a month, as my main focus is still be "War on the HOA". When I finally get my procrastinating ass around to finishing it, I should be able to increase the frequency of this story.

Additionally, let me know if you ever think the rating for this thing should ever go up. I'm pretty sure that most of it will be T level stuff (but who knows maybe I'll finally get the stomach to write some more steamy scenes) and I'm never quite sure if what I think is totally fine is actually inappropriate.

Additionally additionally, this title is based off a comedy movie. Feel free to chime in if you know it. If you guess write...um... you get...I don't know, bragging rights? (I don't want to promise a prize I can't deliver)

Anyways, later gators!


	2. Too Much Alike

**A/N** : As promised, another chapter of Undercover Lovers in one months time. Now if only I could get off my lazy ass and write some War on HOA (shameless plug, or genuine regret, only you can decide).

We learn a bit more about Two (Sanji) and Three (Zoro) in this chapter. Hopefully this makes up for the severe lack of content? Maybe? Yes? No?...just go ahead and skip this A/N...

* * *

Three exhaled as he swung of his katana straight ahead, stretching his reach along with the expulsion of his breath. He tightened his grip to snap his sword up slightly, creating a quick strike that would cut the opponent's skull and leave him ready to attack again. He narrowed his eyes and adjusted the height of his katana. His tenouchi was a bit off, which was expected but unacceptable all the same. He'd been given more assignments than usual, leaving him far too little time to perfect his technique. Hopefully his latest hiccup –with the extra eleven dead men- would upset One enough to leave him without an assignment for a few weeks.

He lifted his arms again, paying careful attention to the sinews growing taunt in his triceps. Feeling a slight unbalance, Three adjusted accordingly until he was precisely center. Then, he sent another quick strike forward at head level. He didn't change face, but a small warmth of accomplishment flared within his chest at the correct movement. Now to repeat the perfect maneuver 99 more times and he would take a break. He lifted the katana and struck again. 98 more times.

* * *

Two held his arms above his head, pushing up until he heard his back, shoulders, and elbows pop. Then he leaned down at his waist, placing his palms flat on the tatami mats. Without a sound denoting any effort, Two displaced his weight to his hands and swung his legs up. While upside down, Two proceeded to languidly stretch out his legs until they were properly limber. With preparations out of the way, Two began with a quasi which fed smoothly into its partner move queue. He stretched his legs, maximizing distance and adjusted the ankles until his foot was at the proper angle. Perfect.

He shifted his weight back to his feet with the dip of his legs back to the ground. However, his momentum propelled him back onto his hands and he continued to somersault down the small room before launching himself into the air and landing with a two-foot stomp. Had there been an opponent standing in front of him, their skull would be crushed. Despite what seemed to the untrained eye as a flawless maneuver, Two copied the sequence 6 times before he seemed pleased with it. Then, after another hip stretch, Two kicked his left leg up at a 180˚ angle. He frowned and shifted his weight and footing until he found himself at the right balance between stability of footing and readiness to dodge or attack again. As Two stood in the personal gym, his foot pointed skyward, he engraved the position of each of his muscles into memory. Then he slowly lowered his foot. After a brief pause, allowing some time to stretch between now and his last move, Two kicked up again, slipping into the same stature memorized previously. _Excellent_ , he thought, _another 98 times should be enough before my break_.

* * *

Two entered the lounge for his smoke break and gazed derisively at one of the 3 current occupants of the room. With a scoff, Two headed for the couch without pause in his step or hesitation in his pace.

"Hey Meathead, nice to see you partake in a balanced diet, as usual." Two quipped, not even bothering to gesture at the bottle of liquor resting on Three's agape lips.

Three managed to swallow another mouthful of rum before Two finished his goad. "Yeah, you'd know all about diet wouldn't you, _Cook_."

Two narrowed his eyes at the comment, the nickname being an homage to his first -and last- undercover mission at a restaurant where he was supposed to poison a regularly attending customer. A mission he later failed because he couldn't find it in himself to ruin the reputation of the kind, if annoying, old man who ran the restaurant.

"Hmph, I certainly do, _Samurai,_ " Two replied, providing his own tribute to past failures. This one was very old –about 10 years ago- in which Three failed to kill the owner of a kendo dojo. Maybe it was some admiration towards the sensei, or pity for a man who just lost his daughter. Either way, it was the only time Three failed to eliminate a target, as Two would ever so readily remind him.

As expected, Three narrowed his remaining eye at Two, who was currently lighting up his cigarette. Two lowered himself next to Three on the couch, ignoring his usual grumble of "don't sit next to me". With a low chuckle Two exhaled his smoke towards Three, who scrunched his nose and waved away the smoke with a snarl that would send normal men running. Two only smirked. He probably wouldn't tease the idiot so much if he didn't make it so easy…probably.

"So, Moss-head, I heard you nearly set a new record with extra kills." Two began with a congenial tone.

"Hm, jealous Curlicue?"

Two snorted. "As if, those massacres you do are the mark of an amateur. A _true_ professional only eliminates who is marked."

"Yeah, just takes you five times longer than everyone else." Three exhaled, completely unimpressed. He drank while Two inhaled another drag.

"I'm sure even an oaf like you has heard the expression 'quality over quantity'. You really should put more care into your work. Poor One's having a hard time picking up after you."

"Not as hard a time as it she has dealing with a perv like you."

"What was that?" Two snapped. This was a new insult, something he wasn't entirely prepared for. How dare the idiot spring it on him so casually?!

"Do I need to spell it out to you? You're. A. Pervert." Three deadpanned.

With his eyes shielded from the rest of the lounge by his long, blond bangs, Two looked around the room to see if the other two inhabitants heard. The guy and lovely lady off to the side didn't seem like they'd heard, but in Aconitum everyone was trained to not give away their fixed attention. For all Two knew, the beautiful brunette now thought he had some sort of twisted perversions!

To compensate for the brief silence, Two scoffed ostentatiously. "Just because you possess the emotional constitution of a boulder doesn't make me a pervert. You're just so far off the spectrum to realize interest in another human being is normal."

"It's called discipline, pervert-cook, learn it."

Two frowned at the mashing up of these two nicknames. "You're not in any position to be suggesting someone learn self-control, you glorified butcher." Two snarled, crushing the bunt of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

Three was ready to smash his now empty bottle of rum over Two's head –anything to wipe that smug little smirk off his face- when his idea was interrupted by the light cough. Three and Two turned to face behind the couch and saw a petite woman with platinum blonde hair tied in twin braids. She fiddled with the hem of her short, pink dress with one hand while the other gripped a clipboard. The two recognized her as the personal assistant to One and nodded to acknowledge her presence.

"Um, One wants to see you right away." She informed with a quiet voice that matched her timid stature.

Two turned towards Three with a heavy frown. "And just what did you do to upset One, you bastard?"

"No, I'm pretty sure One is just finally processing that restraining order against you, and she needs your signature.

Before another argument could erupt, Twenty-Nine interrupted with a soft, "excuse me". Both men once again turned back to the woman, one with an annoyed scowl the other with a charming grin.

"She wants to see you both, actually."

Now with matching looks of confusion, the two stared at Twenty-Nine, waiting for an explanation. Without one coming, the two stood from the couch and followed the woman back to One's office. After a quick glance to each other, brows raised in question, they opened the double doors and entered.

* * *

 **A/N:** Fun fact that no one asked for; my music teacher once told me "to perfect something, you had to play it 100 times without mistake". Granted he was talking about instruments, but I feel like the sentiment can apply to fighting as well.

For anyone wondering, "tenouchi" generally refers to the wrist movement of a cut. You want to have a snapping motion so that after the cut you end slighter higher up so that your sword isn't stuck lodged in whatever body part you recently sliced.

Additionally, does anyone recognize who agent Twenty-Nine is? Unlike previous numbers (like the woman Nami was on the phone with) I actually had a One Piece character in mind for her.

See you all next month!


End file.
